What friends are for
by staccato83
Summary: Methos is depressed. Duncan tries to help. (I know it happened before, but give it a try. I promise to make it short.) And please leave a review!!!


What friends are for  
  
A highlander-fanfiction by staccato83   
  
Disclaimer: Highlander is not mine. None of those great characters are, I just borrowed them to play. Don't sue me, enjoy it (it's healthier, except you're a lawyer!)  
  
Rating: G  
  
A/N: Nothing great, just for fun. Dedicated to real friends. You know who.  
  
Summary: Methos is depressed. Duncan tries to help. (I know, it happened before, but give it a try. I promise to make it short.)  
  
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Duncan woke with a start.  
He knew that something was wrong, even without opening his eyes. Someone was in his apartment.  
He still lay in his bed and strained his ears to catch a sound, but there was nothing. But Duncan was absolutely sure that someone was here, he was awakened by someone. By steps, to be accurate.  
Suddenly he heard the soft footfalls on his floor. Cracking an eye open, he saw a lean figure standing in front of the window and staring out in the darkness.  
Duncan sat up and switched on the lights, startling the figure.  
"God, MacLeod, go back to sleep! You scared the hell out of me!"   
The words were harsh, but Duncan didn't care. He remembered now the evening before - how could he have forgotten? - and was just glad this man wasn't some immortal hunting for his head.  
No. This was an old friend of his, a very old friend, indeed, who had survived nearly everything that happened in the history of humankind.   
The last evening, he had dropped by, and Duncan had invited him to stay for dinner, and after dinner, they had talked and played chess until it was late, so he had offered him the couch to sleep. The offer was accepted, but Duncan still didn't know what exactly had awakened him. He was familiar with those sleeping arrangements.  
He gave his friend a thoughtful look. He looked tired out. Wearing only his boxer-shorts, a T-shirt and one single sock, with his dark, short hair uncombed, he looked like a small boy who stayed up for too long, watching too many movies. The only thing that would have completed the picture was a teddy bear.  
He felt his lips twitch at this particular thought, but one look in his friends face stopped the laughter before it could erupt.  
"Is everything okay?" he asked, suddenly concerned.  
The other one shrugged. "Yeah. You just scared the hell out of me." he repeated. "Just go back to sleep. Sorry to wake you."  
His voice sounded hoarse, like he had drunk too much or like he had cried. Duncan knew for sure that he hadn't drunk more than usual, so it had to be the second possibility.  
He stood up and stepped closer. "I know for sure that you're lying to me, old man." he said in a slightly amused tone. "So, tell me, what is it?"  
Now, standing directly in front of him, he could see the faint tremors rippling over his friend's body. "Please. I want to help you."  
The older one snorted. "You? Helping me? No thanks, MacLeod. I'm not one of your little helping projects. Leave me alone. Go, donate blood or do something else useful." He trembled now violently, and his sarcastic tone was spoiled by the emotions in his voice.  
"No." Duncan shook his head and saw deep in those green-gold-brown eyes. He was confused by the emotions displaying there; pain, hurt, darkness, all mixed together into a greater pain. "You don't understand, Methos. You need help, I'll help you. I want to help you. I really want."  
The oldest living Immortal on earth drew a deep shuddering breath and shook his head. "Well, MacLeod, I don't want to talk about it. Just leave me alone…please." Duncan shook his head. "As you wish. But when you are ready to talk…you know where you can find me, okay?"  
Methos nodded and sniffed. "Yeah." he said in a small voice. "Thanks."  
Duncan shook his head again and placed his broad hands on his friend's slim shoulders. Methos skin felt like ice under his warm hands, and Duncan pulled him close, hugging him and holding him in a warm, brotherly embrace.  
Methos didn't struggle against him, and this worried Duncan more than anything else.   
He just stood there for several minutes, just holding the old man who fought hardly for his control, and finally lost this fight.  
Duncan felt the slim body of his friend shook as he sobbed hard. Tears spilled down his face and wetted Duncan's shoulder, but the Highlander kept his promise. He held him and protected him against the world; being strong for him as long as Methos wasn't able to be it himself.  
He held Methos close, rubbed his back and stroked his soft hair until the sobbing finally subsided and the Ancient grew quieter in his arms. Duncan knew perfectly well that he himself could never have his own children, but sometimes, on days like this one, he felt as if he had at least three different children: Richie, the youngest, but the most honest child; Amanda, the beautiful, playful thief who used to lie to everyone just to protect herself; and finally Methos, the enigmatic, old man, who never let his defences down, just to break down in tears when it became to much to bear for him. After all, Duncan felt honoured that Methos trusted him enough to let him see his weakness. All of the older Immortals - no matter if it was Amanda, Connor, or Methos - had their masks and hardly ever someone saw behind those masks. The feelings and thoughts of them were hidden, and Duncan didn't often catch a glimpse of them.  
"Nightmare." Methos finally muttered against his neck. "Horrible, bloody nightmare." Duncan nodded. "It's okay now." he reassured his friend; his child. "It was only a dream."   
He expected an ironic comment, but Methos kept quiet. Duncan sighed and pulled him over to the couch. "Come. Sit down. I'll make you something to drink. What do you want?" Methos sunk down in one corner and wrapped his long arms around his drawn-up knees. "Tea?" Duncan suggested, but Methos shook his head. "No, but do you have cacao?" The Highlander grinned and nodded. "Sure." He fought the urge to ruffle Methos hair, and went over to the kitchen.  
Just a few minutes later, he sat a cup and a plate down in front of Methos. "You want some cookies?" he asked him and offered him the plate. Methos smiled and grabbed some of them.  
"You know, MacLeod, sometimes I feel like a little child when I'm with you." Methos murmured when cup and plate were empty. Duncan smiled. "Yeah, sometimes I feel like having children, with you." He grinned and threw a look at the watch. "And little children have to sleep by now." He grew serious again. "Think you can do that?"  
Methos gulped, but nodded. "Yeah."  
Duncan waited until his friend had stretched out on the couch and threw the blanket over his slim form. He tucked him in and stroked shortly over his hair. "Good night. And sleep well." he murmured. Methos nodded and curled himself in a tight little ball. "MacLeod?", he called softly.   
Duncan stopped. "Yes?", he answered.  
"Thank you. For everything.", Methos murmured sleepily. Duncan grinned broadly. "Anytime, Methos."  
And with a frown, he added: "That is what friends are for."  
  
END 


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